


my golden hour

by sherlocksdaughter



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Clave Politics, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marriage, Parenthood, Post-Canon, Racism, Terrorism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 17:16:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21431860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlocksdaughter/pseuds/sherlocksdaughter
Summary: “Happy anniversary, Magnus.” Alec whispers, brushing Magnus’ hair back from his forehead with his fingertips and pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to Magnus’ mouth.“Happy anniversary, Alexander.” Magnus murmurs and feels intently that nothing else in the universe matters except this, that nothing can touch him as long as he has Alec’s arms around him, Alec’s lips against his skin. Nothing at all.Alec and Magnus have been married for two years now, and life is wonderful. Thanks to Alec's tireless work as the Inquisitor, the Clave has made significant steps forward in their politics like the Shadow World has never seen. Although Magnus and Alec's work is never done, the both of them are happy in a way neither of them ever thought they'd be able to be, and are even thinking about taking the next step.However, when Downworlders start turning up murdered or missing, and with the high likelihood that Nephilim are the culprits, the peace that the Lightwood-Banes have managed to carve becomes threatened.
Relationships: Clary Fray/Jace Wayland (mentioned), Helen Blackthorn/Aline Penhallow (mentioned), Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Simon Lewis/Isabelle Lightwood (mentioned)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 40





	1. keep me in your glow

**Author's Note:**

> Tags to be updated as the story updates!

On the sun-drenched morning of their second wedding anniversary, Magnus wakes to lips pressing sweetly against the top of his spine. Gentle, damp, sucking kisses against sleep-warm skin that makes Magnus shiver in delight and exhale on a sigh. Bare legs are tangled with his, the familiar scratch of course hair on the sensitive skin of his thighs.

“Morning.” Alec murmurs, Magnus feeling Alec’s lips buzz against his skin. Magnus shivers again, feels an almost involuntary pulse of magic ignite from his body and brush lovingly against Alec’s skin, making Alec sigh against him.

“Mm.” Magnus breathes, “Good morning.”

Eyelids half-closed, he turns languidly in Alec’s arms until he can dip forward and slip his tongue into Alec’s mouth with an accuracy that only someone intimately familiar with another’s face can achieve, even half-awake and heavy-limbed. He feels Alec inhale deeply through his nose, feels Alec’s lips move comfortably against his and tingling fingertips run up the length of his spine.

“Happy anniversary.” Alec says against Magnus’ mouth, hand now cradling the back of Magnus’ head in reverence.

“And to you, my love.”

They kiss deeply, warmly, for what seems like hours, until they can feel full, if just for a little while. Alec cups Magnus’ jaw, thumb brushing softly against Magnus’ cheekbone while Magnus skates greedy palms up and down Alec’s bare back, pushes down until he can tuck his fingers underneath the waistband of Alec’s boxers – only for safekeeping, of course. Alec exhales a chuckle against Magnus’ lips that makes Magnus’ stomach twist giddily in love and joy.

“None of that.” Alec says, pulling away to meet Magnus’ eyes and grin. Magnus is mesmerised by the damp pinkness of his lips. “We both have work today.”

Magnus pokes out his bottom lip.

“Remind me why we ever allowed that to happen?” 

“Because,” Alec moves forward to noisily smack a kiss against Magnus’ mouth before kneeling up, leaning back towards the bottom of the bed so Magnus has to sit up slightly to look at him. He smiles, hands going to lift Magnus’ calf off the bed so he can press a casual kiss to the sole of his foot, eyelids fluttering. Magnus rolls his eyes. “Both of us are very important, powerful people without whom the Shadow World would surely crumble within hours.”

Magnus throws his head back against the pillow, groaning.

“Why did I ever allow myself to be so good at my job?” He says dramatically, “When it prevents me from spending the entire day in bed with my husband on our anniversary? I truly am the orchestrator of my own despair.”

Alec is grinning when he gets up off the bed, walking round to press his grin to Magnus’ lips.

“Get dressed, baby.” He says, nuzzling his nose briefly against Magnus’ before turning away and towards their wardrobe, arm lifting over his head in a bone-cracking stretch. “I promise I’ll make it up to you later.”

Magnus tuts, sits up against the headboard and allows himself a moment to be still and watch his husband get dressed. He’s beautiful – as beautiful as the day they met, the day Alec stepped down from the altar to pull him in for that first desperate, earth-shattering kiss. He’s as beautiful as the day he stood aglow with neon lights in the dark and told Magnus he couldn’t live without him, as beautiful as the day he walked straight into the scorched plains of Edom and pulled Magnus into his arms. He’s as beautiful as the day Magnus married him, framed by flowers and golden light, his hands in Magnus’ as they promised themselves to each other.

Except, he’s not. He’s more beautiful than that. He grows more and more beautiful every day – every day he lives the life he never thought he’d get to have. Every day he lives as the Inquisitor of the Clave, works tirelessly to change ignorant minds and even more ignorant traditions, comes home every night to see Magnus in their living room, in their kitchen, in their bed – and kisses him in delight and relief, every single time.

Magnus was able to give him that. Each kiss, each caress, embrace and smile – Magnus feels it. Alec’s gratitude, his joy, his _love_. It’s almost too much to bear, sometimes: the happiness they have been able to find in each other. Magnus vows to never take it for granted.

“Hey.” Alec says, smoothing his shirt over his chest, absent-mindedly fixing his cuffs as he moves closer to lean over Magnus. “What are you thinking about?”

“You.” Magnus says, simple and honest, relishing the smile that curls across Alec’s lips. “Always you.”

Magnus grips the front of Alec’s shirt to pull him down into a kiss and Alec goes willingly, cupping Magnus’ neck. Magnus marvels at the fact that Alec always kisses him the same way – single-mindedly, adoringly, sincerely, like there’s absolutely nothing else in the world he would rather be doing – ever since the very first time Alec had grabbed him by the lapels and changed his world forever. It’s addicting. It’s soul-affirming. It’s everything Magnus had ever dreamed of.

“I love you.” Magnus murmurs in the space between their mouths as they part. It’s both a grossly inadequate and perfectly concise way of expressing all the beautiful and embarrassing feelings squeezing at his heart right now.

“I love you too.” Alec says, easy and sincere. “Come on, I’ll make you breakfast before I go.”

“If you think I can keep my hands off you while you’re cooking your famous scrambled eggs, Alexander, I’m afraid you’re sorely mistaken.” Magnus calls as Alec walks out of their bedroom and towards the kitchen.

“I thought you liked a challenge!” Alec calls back, a grin fluttering in his voice.

Magnus’ heart rises joyfully in his chest, an unbidden smile pinching his cheeks from how whole he feels, right here in this moment – with the pale morning sun spilling through golden curtains and the warmth of Alec’s mouth still lingering on his lips.

_A good morning indeed._

\--

They both spend entirely too long saying goodbye at the front door before Alec leaves, briefcase in one hand and the other cupping Magnus’ neck as he mouths kiss after kiss against Magnus’ lips.

“Right.” Alec says for the fifth time in the last ten minutes, “I really do have to go.”

“So you keep saying.” Magnus teases, taking pity on his husband and pushing back slightly, smiling dopily up at him. “I’ll see you at six for dinner? Where shall we go? Paris, India, Morocco?”

Alec lips quirk in thought for a second.

“Surprise me.” He decides with a smile, leaning forward to press one last firm kiss to Magnus’ mouth. “See you later, baby.”

“Goodbye, darling.”

Maybe he’d spare a thought about how ridiculous and lovesick they were both being if it was any other day, but, well – it was their anniversary, after all. 

And besides, Magnus had been on this Earth for over four centuries. Never had he experienced this kind of happiness he feels almost daily with Alexander. The skin-tingling, toe-curling kind he felt when Alec took his hand absent-mindedly when they walked along the Seine. The contentedness that settled in the centre of his chest when he got home late and Alec reached for him in his sleep at the dip of the mattress. The sense of pure, unadulterated wholeness in his heart when he caught Alec’s gaze across the dinner table, when he heard Alec humming from the kitchen in the morning, when Alec kissed the side of Magnus’ neck as they stood on their balcony in an evening.

He had told himself many times not to take any second of it for granted.

Magnus still has a stupidly love-dumb smile on his lips as he steps through a portal to his first client of the day, dressed tastefully in high-waisted velvet jeans, a black shirt and a shock of glittering purple eyeshadow. He steps from the Alexander-scented warmth of home into the cool air of Washington D.C., before the limestone church that houses its Institute.

This particular Institute was one Magnus hadn’t visited before. He had learned quite quickly after being appointed High Warlock of Alicante that the majority of his role could be considered glorified ambassador work – portalling around the globe to various Institutes, acting as an advisor to Heads of Institutes of varying competencies in local Downworlder relations.

Since Lilith was killed and Edom destroyed, demon sightings and attacks became incredibly few and far between, meaning the Clave had to turn his attention to the Downworld and Downworlder relations as much for something to do as anything else. Magnus suspects that was one of the main reasons he even had the opportunity to be appointed High Warlock of Alicante in the first place, and why Alec was able to put through his legislation on deputised Downworlders within a year of being Inquisitor. The Clave had no excuse, no other battles or distractions to take their focus. It had worked to Alec’s (and the Downworld’s) advantage.

Demon sightings had been on the increase within the last few months, and no-one really knew why – which had definitely taken back some of the Clave’s attention. However, the transformation in the relationship between the Clave and Downworlders was here to stay, and wasn’t to end here if him and Alec had anything to do with it.

In a lot of ways, Magnus loved his role. At the least, it showed quite an important step forward for the Clave in actually getting a Downworlder to advise on Shadowhunters’ treatment of Downworlders: rather than the brutalist, tyrannical approach Magnus had been painfully familiar with in the past.

But also, in a lot of ways, he hated it.

While the progress the Clave had made (mostly thanks to his Alexander) was reflected quite wonderfully in the behaviour of some of the Heads that Magnus had met – most of them eager, starry-eyed young things who would shake Magnus’ hand excitedly and hang onto his every word – in others…centuries of prejudice were not so easily discarded.

The Head of the Washington D.C. Institute seemed to be one of the latter.

Magnus had been alive for many years, and one of the things he prided himself in was his ability to read people’s character within minutes of meeting them. It was one of the reasons Alec had enthralled him so much within hours of Magnus first setting eyes on him – despite his initial cold, sad, defensive exterior.

_(Oh, how so much had changed.)_

Which is why it took no time at all for Magnus to dislike the man currently stood in front of him.

Dawson Tallow could, on the outside, be considered quite handsome. He was tall and muscular, with sun-bronzed skin, golden hair and sharp, perceptive blue eyes. However, Magnus felt nothing but vague repulsion of him.

From the minute Magnus arrived and was escorted to the Head of the Institute’s office, an atmosphere of contempt and distrust seemed to surround him. Tallow magnified it tenfold.

“Warlock Bane.” He states as Magnus steps into the room, too cold to be considered a greeting.

Magnus’ good mood from the morning dissolves almost entirely as Tallow stands from his desk, looking Magnus up and down in what can only be described as distaste as he walks towards him, taking in his violet jeans, the vibrancy of his makeup, the glittering jewellery hanging from his neck and adorning his ears.

“It’s Lightwood-Bane, actually.” Magnus says tightly, but smiles politely nonetheless. Years of being a High Warlock has made him nothing if not a diplomat. He holds out a hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr Tallow.”

Tallow stops a shade too close for Magnus’ liking, taking Magnus’ offered hand in a hard handshake.

“Likewise.” He says. He doesn’t smile.

“You called for an update of your wards, correct?” Magnus asks, to be polite more than anything. At least a wards instalment would be over and done with quickly.

“Yes.” Tallow replies, clipped. “This way.”

Magnus half-expected Tallow to dismiss him and get some grunt Shadowhunter to escort him to do the job before waving him off, but no. Tallow leads Magnus down a short maze of corridors to what he can only assume to be the Security hub of the building, body language cold and unfriendly.

Magnus feels his irritation rising by the second.

“May I ask,” He begins, smiling calmly. “Why you didn’t ask the High Warlock of Washington D.C. to do your wards for you? It’s my understanding that Briony practices more than satisfactory ward magic.”

Tallow regards Magnus from the corner of his eye as he walks, lips pursing slightly in poorly disguised annoyance. Magnus notices that he walks with his shoulders curled forward, almost defensive, no movement of his body friendly or welcoming.

“I’m afraid the High Warlock of Washington won’t work with us.” He answers, ice in his voice, offering no more than that as they appear to reach their destination. 

It’s a small, slightly dank room with a few monitors manned by Shadowhunters who don’t even look up when they enter. Magnus skin crawls with discomfort at the whole situation, at the ice-cold atmosphere and suspicious way the Shadowhunters don’t even acknowledge the presence of their leader, yet alone an unknown guest. It feels wrong.

“When you’re ready, Mr Lightwood-Bane.” Tallow instructs, and Magnus has to bite back the angry retort of _‘I’m not one of your underlings, Shadowhunter’_.

He sighs, calms himself as he raises his hands and closes his eyes. He centres himself before pushing his magic out from his palms, scoping and tracing every inch of the building and carefully moulding a thick wall around it, ensuring it only accessible to Shadowhunters and Downworlders. Tallow didn’t ask for the latter, and even though it seemed that he hadn’t yet got the memo about deputised Downworlders being a requirement of every Institute, Magnus thought he’d take the liberty of making it easy for him.

Magnus blows out a careful breath once it’s finished, rolling his shoulders. He turns back to Tallow with a tight smile.

“All finished.” He informs him. “They will need to be updated again in six months.”

He sneaks another look at the Shadowhunters behind Tallow, but they still don’t react or even move. Magnus wonders, distantly, whether it’s unapologetic disgust at his presence or whether it might even be fear of Tallow. He still doesn’t want to stick around and find out.

Magnus expects a chilly thank you and a swift escort to the exit, but instead he watches in puzzlement as Tallow’s eyes drop to Magnus’ left hand.

“You’re married?” Tallow asks, his expression and voice completely unreadable.

Magnus can barely conceal his surprise at the question.

“Um, yes. Two years today, actually.” Magnus has no idea why he just told him that. Equally, he has no idea why he _needs_ to tell him that. His and Alec’s wedding had been the most high-profile of the century, not least because it was the first of its kind – a Shadowhunter/Downworlder marriage, the male Head of an Institute marrying a male (former) High Warlock inside the very Institute he led. Not only that, but not even a day after they had defeated the Queen of Hell and destroyed Edom, after Clary had defeated Jonathan. Magnus was pretty sure the entirety of the Clave and most of the Downworld knew who he was and who he was married to.

Apart from Dawson Tallow, apparently.

“I see.” Tallow says simply, his pale, sharp eyes boring into Magnus for an uncomfortable, silent second before he gestures towards the door. “Thank you for your time, Mr Lightwood-Bane. I’ll see you out.”

They walk the exit, Tallow a silent and unnerving presence the whole way. There’s a quiet strength about him, but it’s not a comforting or protective quality the way Alec’s is – it’s threatening. Menacing. Tallow does nothing except walk a step in front of Magnus, arms behind his back and eyes focused in front of him – but his presence fills the corridor in a way that makes Magnus feel almost intimidated. Maybe it was the way the Shadowhunters under his command seem too fearful to even look at him, or the unfiltered contempt settled in his eyes when he looks at Magnus – not even enough to be called hatred, because it is clear this man doesn’t consider Magnus equal enough to him to be worthy of hatred.

He seems different from the other racist, bigoted Nephilim Magnus has encountered in his work within these last two years. Usually, while they are not covert in the least in their disdain of Magnus and everything he represents – there is a stagnancy to their disrespect, an unthreatening and simply pathetic nature that Magnus feel he can laugh off quite easily; content in the knowledge that this rapidly changing world will soon leave people like them in the dust.

Magnus isn’t comforted by this thought with Tallow. There is no listlessness to this man’s dislike, to his blatant disapproval of Magnus’ existence. Tallow looks at him with intent. Like a predator sizes up his prey and decides which vein to sink his teeth into first. Magnus feels his magic tingling at his fingertips at the thought, hopes that Tallow doesn’t notice as they near the exit.

“You know, Mr Tallow,” Magnus says as they stop at the front door, “If you are having communication issues with your local High Warlock, I’d be more than happy to help the both of you resolve your differences.”

Once again, Magnus finds himself unable to read Tallow’s expression as he seems to consider Magnus’ offer.

“That won’t be necessary.” He says tightly.

Magnus opens his mouth to respond, maybe to kindly remind him about the Clave’s new regulations about deputised Downworlders and the importance of positive relations with the local Downworlder community, but Tallow holds out his hand before he can.

“You will receive your payment within 24 hours.” Tallow tells him stiffly, his handshake somehow even harder and more unpleasant this time round. “Thanks again for your time, Warlock Bane.”

“Lightwood-Bane.” Magnus corrects irritably, his repulsion of the man in front of him skyrocketing. “It’s been a pleasure.” he lies.

Magnus leaves too quickly to be polite, but he is beyond caring for diplomacy at this stage. He thinks, angrily, that it is people like Dawson Tallow who probably still dreamed of a time where Shadowhunters murdered Downworlders in their hundreds without consequence. It is people like Dawson Tallow that allowed people like Valentine to rise to power and wreak havoc on so many Downworlders’ lives, on so many of his friends’ lives. It is people like Dawson Tallow that made Alec the miserable, closeted and wounded man he was when Magnus first met him, that makes Alec’s job so difficult now as he works tirelessly to change the Clave from the inside out, to make Downworlders lives easier and fairer.

Not only that, but the entire atmosphere of the Institute was just…_wrong_. Stiff and unkind and uncomfortable in a way that made Magnus’ skin crawl, and unlike any other Institute he had been in before – even those who had an obviously prejudiced and even ruder leader. Magnus couldn’t put his finger on it. He wasn’t sure he wanted to, out of self-preservation if nothing else.

Magnus portals home to prepare for his next appointment of the day, having to take time to calm himself down, exchanging a few flirty texts with Alec to cheer himself up before he welcomes in his next client.

Magnus can’t help but think of Dawson Tallow for the rest of the day, his thoughts haunted by his cold, hard, predatory demeanour coupled with the odd interest he took in Magnus’ wedding ring. Magnus is unsettled by him, and resolves to talk to Alec about it as soon as he gets home.

But then Alec walks through the door, eyes bright and cheeks tinged pink by the wind outside, striding forward without hesitation to wrap Magnus in his arms with a “I’ve been thinking about you all day.” murmured against Magnus’ lips: and somehow it all becomes completely irrelevant.

Magnus takes them to Italy, where they eat freshly-made pasta and drink white wine next to the water, and Magnus gazes at Alec framed by the Venetian architecture and has to lean across the table and kiss him, all thoughts of Dawson Tallow dissolving into nothingness at the taste of Alec’s lips, the wet slide of Alec’s tongue against his.

In fact, Magnus forgets everything, almost his own name a bit later that night when Alec ties his hands to the bedframe with silk rope, worshipping Magnus’ entire body with his mouth and his hands before he starts to finger Magnus open. Magnus gasps against Alec’s lips, thoroughly enjoying the illusion of being at his husband’s mercy even when the both of them know he could be out of the restraints and have Alec pinned to the wall in an instant if he so wished. He shivers hotly and moans as Alec slips two, three fingers in, dragging damp, kiss-swollen lips across whatever skin he can reach as he ruts desperately against Magnus’ thigh.

“Magnus, Magnus.” Alec gasps, sucking a bruise to Magnus’ collarbone.

“Gods,” Magnus groans, “Fuck me Alexander, I can’t wait anymore. Please.”

Alec obliges beautifully, pushing a pillow underneath Magnus’ hips before he positions himself and pushes in, inch by torturous inch, swallowing the high moans coming from Magnus’ mouth.

It doesn’t take long after that, the both of them slightly tipsy on love and from the wine they had at dinner, Alec’s mouth barely leaving his as he fucks Magnus within an inch of his life. Magnus savours the feeling of Alec’s cock dragging against his prostate, sending hot bursts of pleasure up his spine, feels the flesh-warmed metal of Alec’s wedding ring as Alec begins to stroke him in time with his thrusts.

Magnus’ orgasm takes him almost by surprise, his back arching off the bed and mouth falling open in a silent scream as he spills between their bodies, blue sparks bursting from his skin. Alec follows soon after, coming inside Magnus with a shaky groan.

They lie together in the aftermath, wrapped around each other, Alec pressing small, tingly kisses to Magnus’ cheeks, his temple, the bridge of his nose and the corner of his mouth. 

“Happy anniversary, Magnus.” Alec whispers, brushing Magnus’ hair back from his forehead with his fingertips and pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to Magnus’ mouth.

“Happy anniversary, Alexander.” Magnus murmurs and feels intently that nothing else in the universe matters except this, that nothing can touch him as long as he has Alec’s arms around him, Alec’s lips against his skin. Nothing at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this fic is basically been in the making since I watched the first episode of 3b, and it's taken me a few months since the (incredible) finale of 3b to finally get my thoughts onto paper like this. 
> 
> The cancellation somehow felt even more like a betrayal to me when I watched the finale, because the finale solidified to me just how much POTENTIAL these characters and this premise has, and how Alec and Magnus' story is nowhere near done. This fic is very personal to me because, to me, it's the spinoff I will never get to see.
> 
> Saying that - because the majority of my love is for Alec and Magnus and because they mean so much to me, this particular story is about THEM, and pretty much only them. Characters like Maia and Luke I know were paid dust in the last season, and they deserve so much better and they deserve their story to be told, but just to let you guys know that you probably will not see that in this particular piece. This is a Magnus and Alec story. Just a disclaimer.
> 
> Please leave a comment if you enjoyed it - they really keep me going and they really keep me motivated to write.
> 
> Come chat to me on [tumblr](http://arthurdent.co.vu).


	2. lost in love and lace

Alec gets to spend almost a whole day with Magnus celebrating their anniversary before his phone starts to chime obnoxiously, over and over.

They had indulged in the rare opportunity to sleep until noon, tangled around each other and snoring blissfully against one another’s skin before Magnus woke Alec up with warm hands grazing down his torso, leaving teasing fizzes of magic in their wake. Alec had tolerated it for about five minutes before he pounced, pressing Magnus to the sheets as he swallowed the giggles bubbling from Magnus’ lovely mouth.

After two rounds that resulted in a lamp being knocked over and a rug changing colour, a rather unproductive mutual shower and a shared pot of coffee; the two of them were sat opposite each other on their balcony – bare ankles tangled together and books in their hands. Neither of them were really reading them, though.

Magnus is telling Alec a story about when he was 200-and-something and living in the Italian countryside with a mundane farmer and his newly-turned werewolf son, and Alec is drinking up every detail greedily, his husband a nearly bottomless pool of experiences that Alec would never get tired of hearing about. Alec watches Magnus smile fondly at the memory, gazes at the flourishing gestures of his hands as he describes a particular event, admires the way the late afternoon sun catches in Magnus’ hair and traces gold on his cheekbones.

And then Alec’s phone rings.

And then again.

And then again.

Alec groans, untangling himself reluctantly from Magnus and leaning over to pluck his phone from the far table, not bothering to look at the caller ID before answering.

“Hello.” He says, not bothering to mask his annoyance. He wasn’t the Head of an Institute anymore, and usually when he told people that he was taking a couple of days off they would actually listen to him. Not today though, apparently.

“Alec!” Comes Izzy’s voice over the line. “Hey, big brother.”

“Oh,” Alec says, irritation deflating as he relaxes a little more in his seat. “Hi Izzy. You okay?”

He levels an apologetic look at Magnus, who simply rolls his eyes affectionately and lifts up his book once again.

“Yeah, yeah I’m okay.” Izzy answers, sounding slightly distracted. “How was the anniversary? Keep it PG though, please.”

Alec chuckles. “We were actually both working for most of the day, but we managed to grab an evening in Venice.” Izzy hums appreciatively. “We’ve both taken today off as well.”

“Oh, right.” Izzy says, disappointment evident in her voice. Alec sighs.

“Okay, what is it?” Alec asks her in resignation.

“Well…” Izzy starts, and Alec hears her sigh over the line. She sounds tired. “A couple of hours ago one of our patrols found a group of dead Downworlders in Manhattan. Two werewolves, two vampires and a warlock. There were signs of a struggle, but it’s not demons – nothing flagged up on our scanners. I told Maia and asked her to take a look, and she told me she smelled Nephilim blood.”

“It was Shadowhunters?” Alec asks, dread starting to grow in his gut.

“Looks that way, yeah.” Izzy says, sighing. “I’ve informed Lorenzo and the head of the New York Vampire Clan as well, and assured them that I’ll be launching a full investigation. I’m going to report it to the Clave, but I thought I’d better tell you first.”

Alec hums in agreement. The Clave’s standard reaction in the past to evidence of Shadowhunter violence against Downworlders was to brush it under the carpet as much as possible – and although it had gotten a lot better in the last few years, Alec still didn’t trust a lot of Clave members not to do the exact same thing, and he knew Izzy didn’t either.

“Have you done anything with the crime scene yet?” Alec asks.

“No,” Izzy says, her voice stern and professional in a way that makes Alec proud and slightly unnerved in equal measures – she is still his little sister, after all. “Just taken pictures and got a few samples. I want to make sure I get everything from the scene before we move the bodies to examine them before giving them back to their respective clan leaders. I’ve told everyone as such.”

“Right.” Alec says.

“Look,” Izzy sighs, “I don’t want to interrupt yours and Magnus’ day off together, but would you mind coming to have a look? I don’t want to miss anything and I could really use your eyes.”

Alec’s heart twinges at the resigned sadness in her voice. Downworlders murdered in cold blood by Shadowhunters, it was something that all of them hoped never to see or hear about ever again after the defeat of Valentine all those years ago. No such luck.

“Of course, Izzy.” He assures gently, already standing up. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Thanks Alec.” Izzy says on an exhale. “See you soon, love you.”

“Love you too.” He tells her before hanging up.

Magnus is looking up at him, brows pinched in a concerned frown. “Is she okay?”

Alec leans forward, cupping Magnus’ face and kissing his forehead tenderly. 

“A group of murdered Downworlders in New York.” He says, sighing unhappily. “Looks like it was Shadowhunters. Izzy’s asked me to take a look. I’m sorry.”

Magnus’ lips thin in pain at the news – still not an easy thing to hear, even after centuries of having to endure the unjust death of his fellow Downworlders. Alec hates that he’s ever had to experience it, yet alone still hear about it.

“Don’t apologise, darling.” Magnus says, reaching up to brush a thumb across Alec’s jaw. “This is important, you should go. Do you want me to come with you?”

Alec considers it for a minute, but decides against it. The New York Institute already had a couple of deputised warlocks working directly with it, as well as Lorenzo obviously being the official representative for the warlock community in New York. From a professional point of view, there was too much of a possibility that the Inquisitor asking another warlock to come in and officially consult on the investigation might step on a few toes, even if that warlock was the High Warlock of Alicante as well as Alec’s husband. Alec wouldn’t want to undermine Izzy and her team like that.

“No babe, it’s okay.” Alec says around a sigh, pressing one last kiss to Magnus’ lips before he stands and stretches, moving towards the balcony doors to get dressed. “I trust Izzy on this, I’m only going so I can make sure the Clave handle this seriously.”

Magnus stands and follows Alec into the bedroom, pressing his forehead to Alec’s shoulder briefly.

“In that case, I’ll make us both a portal to New York anyway. I haven’t seen Cat and Madzie in a little while.”

They’re both dressed and ready within half an hour, stepping through Magnus’ portal a short distance away from the front doors of the Institute.

“Give my love to Cat and Madzie, will you?” Alec says, drawing Magnus in by the waist to kiss him goodbye.

“Of course.” Magnus brushes invisible dust from Alec’s shoulders, smiling. “Be careful. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Alec watches Magnus walk off and around the corner towards Cat’s house before hopping up the stairs to the entrance, the wooden doors all too familiar. Izzy is there almost the second he steps in.

“Alec.” She greets, reaching up on her tiptoes to hug him. He presses a firm kiss to her hair. It smells of smoke and her mango shampoo. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.” He says quietly as she draws back, frowns down at her. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine.” She says, and seems to mean it as she smiles reassuringly up at him. “Glad that you’re here. Lorenzo, Maia, Simon, Lily and Brielle are in my office.”

Lily Chen was the current leader of the New York vampire clan – a 100-year-old vampire who had been a member of the New York clan since Raphael was leader. She seemed hesitant to consort with the New York Institute at first but had since thrown herself whole-heartedly into it, eager to make her voice heard as much as possible. Brielle was a relatively young warlock of 83 who had taken on a permanent job in the Institute about a year ago as the Institute’s Warlock Deputy, usually working in the infirmary as she was apparently skilled at healing magic. She was red-haired and plucky, and Alec admired her take-no-shit attitude.

They are all sat in a circle as Alec and Izzy enters the room, and Alec can feel the solemn atmosphere as soon as he steps in. He thinks, sadly, that it was likely that the victims were probably known to some of them.

“Inquisitor.” Brielle greets, prompting the rest of the party to look up.

“Hi Alec.” Simon says with a half smile, and Alec doesn’t have it in him to be annoyed at the informal form of address.

“Hello, everyone.” Alec says, and they all stand as Alec steps forward, accepting polite handshakes from Lorenzo, Brielle and Lily, squeezing Maia’s shoulder and nodding at Simon. “I’m sorry to meet under such circumstances.”

“Likewise, Mr Lightwood-Bane.” Lorenzo says grimly. It’s hard to believe that just over two years ago him and Alec were threatening each other – now they could almost be described as friends.

With the pleasantries out of the way, they sit, Alec squaring his shoulders and raising his chin in a manner that Magnus fondly describes as his ‘Inquisitor mode’.

“So, brief me on what we know so far.”

They set to the discussion, Simon about as sombre and serious as Alec has ever seen him. Brielle tells him that it was likely that the victims were killed in the early hours of the morning, in a back alley not far from the Hunter’s Moon. There had been evidence of a fight – scorch marks on the bricks and scratches on the surface of a nearby bin – and while there was the scent of Nephilim blood prevalent at the scene as well as the blood of the victims, other than that the perpetrators had left no evidence. Lily states there had to have been at least four suspects to have been able to overpower two werewolves, two vampires and a young warlock.

Maia tells him that the werewolves’ names were Peter and Tyrone, two men in their early twenties who had been turned at the same time a few months ago and had just been finding their feet with Maia’s pack. Simon says that the vampires were Vincent and Sebastian, and not much is known about them other than the fact that they had been visiting New York from Luxembourg. He tells them that the warlock was only 50 years old, a New York native by the name of Shania. Izzy shifts in her seat.

“There was obviously some organisation to this attack.” Alec says, “It’s clear that it wasn’t some fight that got out of control. There was intent to this.”

“They couldn’t have been personally targeted.” Lorenzo pipes up. “According to witnesses from the Hunter’s Moon that night, they didn’t even know each other. Peter and Tyrone were playing darts when the two vampires challenged them to a game, and then Shania challenged them a little while later. They were all conversing for about an hour before they all left together, perhaps to go and get something to eat.”

“They were found at 2pm the next day.” Izzy says. “The alley is out of the way enough that no-one came across them until then.”

“Do you think they were lured there?” Alec asks.

“Perhaps.” Izzy considers, “They must have gone to the location willingly, in any case. There are no signs of a struggle anywhere else other than in that specific location.”

“They were looking for Downworlders to kill.” Maia says, anger like shards of glass in her voice. “They didn’t care who they were. They saw a group of happy, carefree Downworlders with their guard down and decided to murder them.”

Alec fears that she’s right.

“Will you take me to the crime scene, Izzy?” Alec asks. She nods.

Alec moves to stand, and the rest follow.

“I want to assure you that I’m taking this matter very seriously, and will be bringing this to the attention of the Consul.” Alec says firmly, directing his words mostly at Maia, Lily and Lorenzo. “I trust Izzy and the team in this Institute to handle this investigation effectively, but you will have all the resources you need from the Clave. I will ensure it.”

Maia smiles kindly at him.

“Thanks, Alec. It really makes a difference.”

He shares a smile with Lorenzo and a nod of acknowledgement from Lily.

“Just one thing,” Alec adds, seriously. “If this is an organised attack on Downworlders, we have no idea how far this goes, or who might be involved. Please ensure the details of this investigation stay as confidential as possible, and only discuss with other Shadowhunters on a need-to-know basis.”

They all nod gravely, the fear that this is another Circle-like movement starting to worm its way out of the woodwork unspoken but obvious between them.

“That includes any Clave members, except for me.”

Izzy purses her lips next to him, Maia looks at him warily.

“I will be bringing Brielle, Simon and our Werewolf Deputy, Bat, in officially on this investigation, and two or three Shadowhunters I trust. Including Jace. No-one else will be involved.” Izzy tells the room. “I will keep you updated on any and all developments.” She tells Maia, Lorenzo and Lily.

Alec nods at her, then turns back to the room. “I will also inform the Seelie Queen. Even if no Seelies were involved in this, we don’t know if they might still be a target.” He exhales steadily. “Thank you all for your time.”

They exchange polite goodbyes and part ways, Alec’s mind already turning over the details brought to light in the meeting.

Izzy asks Brielle to accompany them, and when Brielle steps forward to create a portal to the scene, Alec takes a second to briefly draw Izzy close to him, hugging her to his side.

“Hey.” He says. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Izzy murmurs, “I can handle this.”

“I know you can.” Alec tells her firmly. “It doesn’t mean that this kind of stuff isn’t rough to deal with.”

“I thought after Valentine, after the fall of the Circle, this kind of stuff wouldn’t happen anymore. I _hoped_ it wouldn’t.” Izzy says, regret lacing her voice.

“We all did.” Brielle says suddenly, stepping forward to squeeze Izzy’s arm reassuringly. It was easy to forget under all the grave professionalism and seriousness of the atmosphere that Brielle and Izzy had worked together closely for over a year, and that they had obviously become firm friends. Alec sees it now in the smiles the women exchange with each other, the comfort they took from one another. He thinks, not for the first time, that this is a testament to how brilliant Izzy was at her job, how wonderfully she had taken on the role of Head of the New York Institute. She built relationships with people, showed them how much she cared about doing right by them – and in exchange they gave her their trust, their help and their hard work. It was heartening to see.

“Now let’s get the fuckers who did it.” Brielle spits.

The crime scene is as grim as Alec expected. The two werewolves lie close together, one naked among what must have been his ripped clothes – obviously murdered swiftly after he changed to try and fight the suspects off. 

“It looks like he was trying to protect him.” Izzy says softly, and Alec has to swallow past the lump in his throat.

The vampires lie on either side of the narrow alley, fangs out and eyes wide open and unseeing, matching holes in their chests. The warlock lies furthest from the mouth of the alley, a few metres from a high metal fence. She must have died first, the handful of scorch marks against the bricks the only evidence that she tried to fight them off briefly before she died.

He looks up as the alley starts to glow green, Brielle standing with her eyes closed and her magic tracing every inch of the alley, searching for any evidence they might have missed. Izzy steps over towards him, kneels next to Shania.

“They killed her first. They must have known that a warlock is the trickiest to kill, so they went for her first.” Izzy says quietly.

Alec hums an affirmative, looking towards the other four victims.

“They brought multiple weapons with them.” Alec says, “The vampires were both killed with a stake and the werewolves with what must have been a silver blade.”

“This was definitely planned.” Izzy sighs, pushing a hand through her hair. “But what did the killers say to them to make these guys follow them into the alley?”

“Could they have known them?” Alec muses.

“Unlikely.” Izzy tells him, “They didn’t even know each other, right? And the two vampires were from Luxembourg. It’s doubtful that they all knew the same group of Shadowhunters, or even one.”

“You’re right.” Alec stands, Izzy following him. He turns to Brielle, who now stands silently, looking down at one of the vampires. “Find anything?”

She shakes her head, levelling her gaze at Alec. “No. Maia may have got the scent of Nephilim blood but there’s no physical trace here, not even a hair. There’s still no way it could have been anyone but a Shadowhunter, though. No magic was used, except by Shania, and a werewolf or a vampire wouldn’t have been able to handle the weapons used to kill them.”

Alec nods grimly. 

“Let’s get them out of here, then.” He says.

“I’ll bring them to the lab to check there’s no evidence on their bodies, then we’ll let them go home.” Izzy affirms. “I’ll dispatch a team to collect them as soon as we get back.

“We should also check all our surveillance and logs to check which Shadowhunters were outside the Institute and unaccounted for at the time of the murders.” Izzy says with grim resolve.

Alec sympathises with her. There’s not much worse than being forced to mistrust your own team.

Brielle portals them back to the Institute, and Alec turns to her once it disappears behind them.

“Thank you for your help.” Alec says sincerely, holding out a hand. Brielle accepts it with a smile.

“Of course, Mr Inquisitor. I am on the payroll, after all.” She quips, “Say hi to Magnus for me, won’t you?”

Alec grins, can’t help himself. “I will.”

Brielle says her goodbyes and walks off towards the Ops Centre.

“Thanks for coming, Alec.” Izzy says, shoulders relaxing a little now that they’re alone.

Alec draws her into another tight hug.

“You’re welcome.” He says, pulling away, curling a piece of hair around her ear affectionately. “You can always call me, you know that right?”

“Yes, hermano.” Izzy says fondly, visibly perking up a little. “Although it seems that the only time I can get you to come and see me nowadays is when it’s some sort of emergency.”

Alec winces. “I know, I’m sorry.”

Izzy rolls her eyes, shoving lightly at his chest. “Relax, Alec. I’m only messing with you. I know how busy you are with this big proposal you’re preparing for the Clave. It’s important.”

Alec sighs, running a hand down his face, and Izzy inclines her head towards her office – sensing that he obviously needs to offload a little.

In the last couple of months, Alec had been in the process of drafting a proposal for change in Clave law – the biggest change the Clave would see in little over a century. 

In the year and a bit that Alec had been Inquisitor, he had managed to make minor but hopefully significant tweaks to Clave legislation – changing the previous Clave requirement to simply keep local pack leaders, High Warlocks, vampire clan leaders and Seelie royalty vaguely informed on any Downworlder matters Shadowhunters dealt with now changed to permanent Downworlder deputies being recommended for all Institutes, for example. 

However, the Clave still had a long way to go, and Alec yearned to fill that gap. Just guidelines for Institutes that included deputised Downworlders wasn’t enough when only the most progressive Institutes decided to take it on. With this proposal, Alec would see the requirement enforceable – the Institutes who hadn’t bothered to adjust their ways being forced to welcome Downworlders through their doors and ensure their voices were heard, being forced to behave fairly and justly.

He would also see a select Downworlder cabinet a permanent fixture of the Clave’s council on any and all matters that concerned the Downworld – which he foresaw as being the biggest and most controversial change – as well as marriage and relationship equality to be extended to everyone in the Shadow World, no matter the gender, whether they be Shadowhunter or Downworlder. Alec and Magnus had set it in motion with their marriage two years ago, and Alec wanted to follow it through properly.

“I just feel so out of my depth with it.” Alec says privately as they walk, quiet enough to ensure no passing ears could hear. He had tried to keep his proposal as much under wraps under possible, knowing how much it’d shake up the Clave and its council members once he brought it forward. “Magnus has helped me so much with it – so has Luke and Simon and even Meliorn – but I still don’t know if it’s right. I don’t know how to strike the balance between making it progressive enough to actually make real change but still conservative enough that there’s enough possibility that the Clave will accept it.”

They’ve entered Izzy’s office by that point, and Alec sinks into one of the leather sofas with a sigh. He looks down at it, traces the stitching with a fingertip and smiles. A memory comes to him in that moment, unbidden but not unwelcome. 

It was some time after Valentine’s massacre, and among other things, Alec had been up to his ears in paperwork. New risk assessments, requests for compensation from surviving Downworlders, death certificates – ridiculous, bureaucratic idiocy that seemed to trivialise the tragedy rather than respect it. It was driving Alec insane, and there didn’t seem to be any end to it.

He had been jolted out of his stupor by a gentle rap on the door. Alec startled, looked up and Magnus was stood there – silhouetted against the orange light of the hallway, a gentle smile settled on his lips.

“Hey.” Magnus greeted softly.

“H-Hey.” Alec said, blinking a bit dazedly at him, his thoughts still a couple of steps behind. “What are you doing here?”

Magnus raised an eyebrow. “Am I not allowed to come and visit my boyfriend?”

“No, wait.” Alec said hurriedly, scrambling a tad ungracefully to get out from behind his desk and approach Magnus. “I didn’t mean it like that, I’m sorry. I was just surprised to see you, is all. We didn’t make plans, did we?” Alec felt horror rising up in him at the thought.

Magnus chuckled fondly, rubbing soothingly at Alec’s upper arm when he came close enough.

“No, Alexander. I just wanted to come and see you. I know you’ve been working yourself to the bone recently and thought you could use a break.” He said.

“Oh, right.” Alec said dumbly. “Um, thank you. I, er, what do you think we should do then?”

Magnus looked at him silently for a moment, brown eyes glinting in the low, dancing lights of the candles dotted around Alec’s office. His hair was streaked with violet, the corners of his eyes crinkled in obvious amusement and he was beautiful. Even when Alec knew he was being made fun of a little.

“Well you can kiss me, for starters.” Magnus murmured, a teasing lilt to his voice that made Alec’s heart rattle in his chest.

“Yes.” Alec said stupidly, before doing exactly that. 

Their lips connected, and Alec could feel Magnus’ mouth tighten in a smile against his – something that made him shiver with joy. Magnus’ hands moved upwards to cup Alec’s neck, fingers warm against Alec’s skin, his lips soft and as addicting as the very first time Alec kissed them. Alec’s hands settled in the small of Magnus’ back tenderly.

Alec didn’t know how long they were kissing for – it could have been 30 seconds or 30 minutes for all he cared. That had been happening a lot, recently. They eventually pulled apart, though, even if it was only by an inch.

“Hi.” He whispered, their faces close enough that he felt more than saw Magnus’ answering smile.

“Hello.” Magnus whispered back, inclining his head towards the couch. “Shall we sit down, Alexander?”

Alec nodded. “Okay.”

Alec brushed his hand down Magnus’ arm before he found his hand and took it, leading them to the leather couches in the centre of the room which framed the fireplace. Alec sat down, expecting Magnus to sink beside him and having to stop himself from gasping when Magnus slid into his lap instead, his knees either side of Alec’s thighs, wordlessly closing the door with a flick of his fingers.

“Oh.” Alec breathed, hands automatically going to Magnus’ waist.

“Is this okay?” Magnus asked, equally soft.

“Yes.” Alec said.

Magnus smiled, and then he dipped forward to kiss Alec again, open-mouthed and languid. Alec pulled him closer, always closer, vowing to himself suddenly to never take this for granted – the feeling of Magnus’ fingertips brushing against the nape of his neck, sliding into his hair, the wet warm slide of his tongue against Alec’s and the weight of his body in Alec’s lap. It was everything he never dared to dream of having – Magnus’ mouth against his and a quiet moment of paradise, just for them.

They parted, Alec sighing against Magnus’ face, unwilling to open his eyes just yet. He felt Magnus trace the lines of his face with a fingertip; the arch of his nose, the curve of a cheekbone, his brow and the bow of his bottom lip. Alec never felt more treasured than in that moment.

“I love you.” Magnus told him softly, prompting Alec to finally open his eyes, searching Magnus’ gaze and finding only love, relief and a hint of gratitude. 

Alec thought then about all the people who had been murdered, how many regrets they might have left this Earth with, how many people would hurt and miss them for the rest of their lives. 

He remembered the blind, white-hot panic that ripped through his body when he couldn’t find Magnus, when he realised that he loved him, the swallowing despair when he thought it might be _too late_. 

But then Magnus was there, tugging on his sleeve, and Alec could have collapsed with relief.

Alec looked at Magnus, the contours of his face highlighted amber by the dying fire, feeling the enveloping leather against his back and the tickle of Magnus’ fingertips against his skin, and knew in that moment that he would never love another. Whether he died tomorrow or 70 years from now, Magnus was the love of his life, and would always be. That a future with Magnus was the only future he wanted.

“I love you too.” Alec replied, a grossly inadequate way of summarising all the feelings churning within him, but it made Magnus lips curl beautifully upwards anyway.

Alec is shaken from his reverie by Izzy sitting next to him on the couch, her head falling back against the seat. 

“This proposal, it’s the one that includes the change in law about Shadowhunter/Downworlder adoptions, right?” Izzy asks gently.

Alec swallows.

“Yes.”

Izzy turns to him, touches his arm to prompt him to look at her.

“Have you talked to him about it?” She asks.

“No.” Alec says quietly, almost shamefully. “I don’t-“

He sighs, closes his eyes and tries to steel himself a little.

“If it doesn’t go through, if they reject it, I don’t want to have gotten his hopes up. If it _is_ something he wants with me, I don’t want it to hurt him if I fail.” Alec furrows his brow, pained. “Izzy, things are so great at the moment. I don’t want to mess anything up. If it’s not something he wants with me, I don’t want to make him feel guilty or….or _obligated_ to say yes just to make me happy. If it is, I don’t want to break his heart by having to tell him that we won’t be allowed to.”

“Alec,” Izzy says slowly, carefully. “I can’t believe I’m still having to tell you this after you guys have been married for two years now, but your anxiety is lying to you.”

She reaches up to squeeze his shoulder.

“You’re only thinking in worst-case scenarios. This is important to you and it’s something you really want, right? Magnus would be furious if he knew you were deliberately making yourself unhappy by keeping something like this from him.” She frowns. “Besides, haven’t you guys spoke about starting a family before?”

Alec shakes his head. “Not seriously, I only mentioned it. This was years ago anyway, before we were married. He’s probably forgotten about it.”

Izzy raises an eyebrow. “Alec, I can just about guarantee you that he hasn’t.”

Alec bites his lip and looks towards the fireplace, watching the firewood spit in the hearth.

“Talk to him, okay?” Izzy tells him softly. “Tell him the truth about how you feel and he’ll do the same. He loves you so much, and there’s no universe where he’d be okay with you torturing yourself over this. Especially when it concerns your future together.”

Alec sighs, turning to smile at her. “You’re right. Thank you.”

“I always am.” Izzy quips, rolling her eyes affectionately. She leans up to kiss his cheek before pushing at his shoulder lightly. “You’ll be fine. Now go. I’ve got tons of work to do.”

“What about you and Simon, anyway?” Alec asks as he stands and heads to the door. “You guys alright?”

Izzy laughs. “We’re not getting married any time soon if that’s what you’re asking, big brother.” She says, shaking her head at him fondly. “We’re perfectly fine just as we are.”

Alec smiles at her, affection warm in his chest.

“As long as you’re happy, Iz.”

Izzy’s gaze softens.

“I am, Alec.” She raises an eyebrow. “Now get out of here, I’m very busy and important.”

“Love you.” Alec says around a chuckle, walking out of her office with a wave.

“Love you too!” He hears her call.

\--

Alec wants to catch Jace before he leaves, and finds him in the corner of the training room, pummelling a punching bag in the corner.

Jace hasn’t noticed him yet, so Alec takes a minute to watch him carefully. He observes for the hunched shoulders, the jittery and unstable posture and too-hard punches characteristic of when Jace was training as a way to cope with pain; but sees none of that. Alec smiles in relief.

He saw so much of it when Clary lost her memories and slotted herself firmly back into the mundane world. They had all missed her fiercely, but none more than Jace.

He was angry and grieving, and self-destructive as a result. He would overwork himself in the training room until his knuckles bled, put himself forward for mission after mission until he near collapsed on the job, sob brokenly when he thought people weren’t watching him. It hurt so much to see.

Him and Clary had been dating again for just under a year, now. Jace had tried to keep it a secret for a few months, but it wasn’t long before it was let slip. Jace was never very skilled at hiding his emotions.

“Jace.” Alec had told him in earnest at that time, pulling him into a desperate hug. “_Please_ be careful.”

To be frank, Alec wasn’t entirely sure what he was warning him against. Inciting the angels’ wrath further? Breaking his own heart again? Pulling Clary back into the perils of the Shadow World? The whole thing just felt…_dangerous_.

But then he felt Jace shake with tears against him, and Alec knew that none of it mattered one bit.

“I know.” Jace gasped, his voice trembling. “I know. I just…I can’t live without her, Alec. Not anymore. Not again. I can’t.”

“Okay.” Alec soothed. “I know, it’s okay.”

Jace had pressed his face into Alec’s shoulder and cried. Alec held him through it, rubbed at his back and let him release all the grief and relief and fear and love that he had been bottling up, his tears damp against Alec’s shirt.

Jace was happy again now, and the risks were worth it to see a smile on his brother’s face again. They had all visited her over the last two years, quietly and furtively – Magnus had bought a few of her paintings which hung around their flat, Simon had played a few times at a bar she frequented, Izzy had sat next to her on the subway and complimented her on her sketches. 

Alec had visited one of her exhibitions once, without Magnus this time. After everything Clary had done – for the Shadow World and his family – he had come to love her like a sister, and at the very least he could check she was doing okay. He owed her that much.

He was hanging around at the back, watching her as she chatted with patrons and her fellow artists, red hair tied up in a bun on top of her head and green eyeshadow dusting her eyelids. She looked happy. Alec heaved an internal sigh of relief.

He was planning to slip out as soon as he could, but felt himself freeze in fear as Clary caught his eye and started to walk over, smiling. He hadn’t bothered to glamour himself, a decision he was quickly starting to regret.

“Hi.” She said cheerfully. “Can I help you with anything?”

“Uh, no, no. I’m just looking around.” Alec said hurriedly, “Thanks.”

Her smile froze suddenly as she looked up at him, her eyes flicking all over his face. Her own began to pinch in puzzlement. 

“Hey.” She said quietly, her voice thick with thought. “Do I…know you from somewhere?”

Alec swallowed.

“Well, I’ve, um, visited a few of your exhibitions before.” He says, “Me and my husband are big fans of yours. You’ve probably seen us around.”

“Oh right!” She exclaimed, her face relaxing once again. “That must be it. I’m sorry, that’s been happening a lot recently…”

Alec let his gaze drop to the ground, saying nothing.

“It means so much that you and your husband like my work, thank you.” Clary said.

“You’re welcome.” Alec said smiling at her. He didn’t hug her even though he wanted to. “And thank you. Your pieces are beautiful.”

“Thank you.” She beamed. “Enjoy the rest of the show.”

She walked off, and Alec had to swallow back the lump in his throat before he left, sadness and relief heavy on his chest in equal measures.

Although Jace spoke about how there seemed to be occasional glimmers of clarity in Clary’s memory, she hadn’t managed to retrieve them. There was only an echo, a whisper of recognition every so often that dissolved as quickly as it came. Clary was completely oblivious to the existence of the Shadow World still. Alec thinks that it is probably for the best. Clary had saved the world enough times, after all. She deserved normality.

“Alec!” Jace shouts in recognition when he finally turns around, a toothy grin splitting across his face. “What are you doing here?”

Alec accepts a sweaty hug, patting Jace on the back.

“Izzy called me in.”

Jace’s face falls a little.

“Oh yeah. The murders?”

Alec nods.

“It’s awful. I thought we wouldn’t see any more of this.” Jace sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Izzy doing okay?”

“Yeah, she’s fine. Doing pretty well, actually.”

Jace grins at him. “Reckon she’s a better Head of the Institute than you?”

Alec tries to suppress his smile, rolls his eyes. “Don’t make me answer that.”

Jace laughs loudly. “Just imagine if _I’d_ ended up being the Head of the Institute.”

“By the Angel,” Alec says, “I doubt any of us would have survived a week.”

“Watch it.” Jace says, shoving him playfully. “You may be the Inquisitor but I reckon I could still beat your ass in a spar.”

Alec scoffs. “Like you ever could in the first place.”

“I said _watch it_.” Jace warns, shoving at Alec again like they’re twelve years old once more and without a care in the world. Alec feels a warmth in his chest and pooling from his parabatai rune – not just Jace’s happiness but his own as well, magnifying in a feedback loop between them.

“How’s the revolution going?” Jace jibes as he walks to a nearby bench to pick up his towel, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Slowly.” Alec sighs and Jace hums in sympathy. He watches as Jace levels his gaze at him, squinting.

“Have you talked to Magnus yet?”

Alec groans. “Izzy asked me the same thing. No I haven’t, not yet, I don’t know whether I should until the legislation actually goes through and it’s actually a _real_ option for us.” He sits on the bench, knees spread, his shoulders drooping forward. “I don’t want him to get hurt, Jace.”

“Hey man,” Jace says, sitting next to Alec and pressing a hand against his shoulder. “I get it. Trust me. But Magnus is a big boy – and he wouldn’t want you going through this, _feeling_ like this on your own. You know that.”

Alec sighs. “Izzy said the exact same.”

“Shit, she did? I must actually be right then.”

Alec laughs softly at that, sitting back, tipping his head back a little. There’s a moment of comfortable silence between them, and Alec lets it wash over him for a minute, eyes tracing over the familiar architecture around him, listening to Jace’s quiet breaths next to him. It reminds him of late nights sleeping in the same room, both of them lying awake in silent companionship. 

It lasts for a about 30 seconds before Alec feels a twinge of nervousness nudge its way through the parabatai rune.

“Hey.” Alec frowns, turning to look at Jace again. “You okay.”

Jace doesn’t return his gaze, looks at the floor and licks his lips.

“I actually need to ask you something.”

Alec shifts, turns his body to face Jace better. “What is it?”

“Clary, she, uh,” He says quietly, “She wants to meet my family.”

Alec’s eyes widen minutely, not the question he was expecting.

“It’s just, it’s been 10 months now, and she’s starting to get a bit…confused that she hasn’t met my family yet.” Jace says. “I keep making excuses, but they’re getting more and more flimsy. I don’t want to lie to her anymore. I want her to meet everyone who is important to me.” He huffs out a short laugh. “Well, again.”

Jace still isn’t making eye contact with him, and Alec reaches up to place a hand on his shoulder.

“Jace…”

“I know what you’re going to say, Alec.” Jace says hurriedly, eyebrows pinched together. “And I know it’s risky, but I can’t keep doing this. I love her. Not everyone gets a second, hell, _third_ chance like this, and I don’t want to be holding back parts of me just because I’m terrified that the angels might take her from me again. I don’t want our relationship to be based on any more lies than it needs to be. I don’t want to jeopardise it.”

“Jace.” Alec says firmly, and Jace finally looks at him. His eyes glimmer with nerves, a rare look on him, making Alec realise just how much this means to him. “Jace, it’s okay. I was only going to say it might be a bit confusing for her, as she’ll probably recognise us all already.”

Jace frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Do you really think you were the only one who checked up on her over the last couple of years?” Alec asks, smiling gently.

The tension in Jace’s face drops immediately and he grins. 

“Yeah, I guess I should’ve known better.” Jace smiles, exhaling heavily. “So you’re okay with it? You’ll come and let her meet you?”

Alec pulls him into a half hug. “Of course I will.”

“Do you think Mom will be okay with it?” Jace asks nervously.

“Jace, I think she will be the most okay with it out of all of us.” Alec tells him.

Jace pulls away and grins, reaching up to squeeze the back of Alec’s neck.

“Thanks, man.”

Alec returns the smile, standing up, leaning to press a quick kiss to Jace’s forehead. 

“I’d better go. Send me some dates, okay? Me and Magnus will be there.”

Jace beams at him. “I will.”

\--

When Alec finally portals home, courtesy of Brielle, it’s the early hours of the morning in Alicante.

He walks silently through the loft, taking off his shoes and jacket and storing them neatly by the front door, finding his way easily through their dark apartment and pushing open their bedroom door quietly.

Even in the darkness, the room illuminated only by a blade of yellow light peeking out from between the curtains, Alec can see Magnus in the bed, body curled away from the window and arm thrown out loosely towards Alec’s side of the bed. His face is pressed into the pillow, jaw slack in sleep and he is beautiful. Alec’s heart twinges at the sight, the same way it does every single time.

He undresses silently before holding open the duvet and attempting to crawl in as carefully as possible, but to no avail. Magnus’ eyes flutter open, and he moans quietly as he wakes.

“Hi.” Alec whispers, settling in close, reaching up to brush the back of his knuckles across Magnus’ cheek. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Magnus’ lips curl in a small smile, eyes still closed. “You know I don’t sleep well without you anyway, darling.” He murmurs, pressing close until the tips of their noses are almost touching. “How was it?”

“Not pretty.” Alec grimaces. “Izzy’s on top of it, though. I’m going to inform the Clave about it tomorrow.”

Magnus hums, and Alec shifts forward to kiss him gently on the mouth.

“Go back to sleep, baby.” He says quietly.

“Mm. Love you.” Magnus says around a sigh, shuffling until he can tuck his head underneath Alec’s chin and throw an arm around his waist. He’s asleep before Alec can reply.

Alec presses his nose to Magnus’ hair, inhales sandalwood, the vague burnt-sugar smell that accompanies Magnus’ magic: the scent so strongly associated with the feeling of home that Alec feels himself calm almost immediately. Magnus starts to snore a little against his collarbone and the love Alec has for him swells in his chest, rises to his throat.

He thinks about what Jace and Izzy said.

_Tomorrow._ He resolves. _I’ll talk to him tomorrow._

The digital clock reads 3:46am when Alec’s eyes finally slip closed.


	3. do you feel that i can see your soul?

It’s 8:50am when Alec jolts awake. 

He gasps, disorientated, squinting against the pale sunlight spilling into the room as he sits up to look at the time.

Shit.

“Magnus.” He says, his tongue thick and clumsy with sleep, shaking his husband. “Magnus, we’re late.”

Magnus groans brokenly, only shoving his face further into the pillow. Alec smiles despite himself. It’s a testament to how far he’s come, to how the love he has for the man currently shifting around begrudgingly underneath the blankets and the persistent happiness he has overshadows everything else in his life – even the stress that he is almost certainly going to be late to the meeting with the Consul he has at nine.

“Mmmph.” Magnus whines, his head popping up, eyes golden and bleary with sleep. “What time is it?”

“Almost nine.” Alec says, scrambling out of bed and to their wardrobe.

“Shit.” Magnus agrees, and struggles out of bed himself, almost tripping over in his haste. It’s a far cry from the put-together, sophisticated and powerful High Warlock that everyone else sees him to be, and if Alec wasn’t still half asleep and trying to work out which way round his slacks go, he would take the time to appreciate the fact he is the only one to see Magnus like this. 

They dress quickly, side-by-side, laughing when Alec overbalances trying to get his socks on while standing up and almost falls into Magnus.

“I thought Shadowhunters were supposed to be graceful?” Magnus teases, flicking his wrist to magic shoes on Alec’s feet, a dark green shirt on Alec’s body and makeup on his own face, kohl and silver glitter lining his eyes.

“Talk about the pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think?” Alec grins. They both reach the hall, Alec pulling on his jacket and still smiling as he cups Magnus’ neck and pulls him in for a short, yet thorough goodbye kiss. Magnus grimaces as he pulls away.

“Morning breath?” Alec asks, wincing apologetically. Magnus smirks.

“No matter.” He flicks his fingers once again, and Alec tastes cool mint. He feels the fizz of Magnus’ magic on his tongue and on his skin, as familiar and welcome to him as the man himself. “There you go. Now it’s only me who has to be subject to your terrible breath.”

“You’re a handful.” Alec tells him, kissing him again as he turns to pick up his briefcase. “You busy today?”

Magnus waves his hand flippantly. “A couple of clients this morning, a meeting with the High Warlock of Tokyo this afternoon. I should be home before four.”

“I’ll try and be home by then as well.” Alec says, taking a second to look his husband up and down, how gorgeous and refined he is, despite waking up less than 10 minutes ago. He aches with love.

Magnus smirks at him knowingly. “I’ll see you later, Alexander.” He says, oddly seriously.

“Yeah.” Alec smiles, picking up his briefcase and opening the door. “Love you.”

“Love you too.” He hears as he shuts the door behind him.

He plans to talk to Magnus tonight. He won’t wait any longer. It’s like Izzy said: it’s their future together, and besides, what is the worst that can happen?

\--

Magnus has made a decision today. 

He’s going to pop the question to Alec tonight.

Well, technically he popped The Question to him just over two years ago, the both of them standing against the burning backdrop of Alicante, between them a heady mix of relief, desperation, love and grief as they slipped rings on each other’s fingers, tears filling Alec’s eyes. Even now the memory fills Magnus with a swelling, frantic feeling when he thinks about all that could have been, and all the amazing and remarkable things that were: set into motion by the exchange of rings by two people who would move Earth and Edom to be together.

He’s going to ask Alec an entirely different question tonight.

He’s going to ask Alec to start a family with him.

Although the truth was that he had been thinking about it for a long time: days spent watching Alec with Madzie, playing hopscotch with her and gasping in exaggerated delight at her magic, seeing him smile softly at babies they pass, picturing tiny hands dwarfed by his large, beautiful ones. He thought about Alec reading to their child at night, showing them how to brush their teeth, hauling them onto his shoulders as they walked through Central Park. The image was cliché, and cheesy and ridiculous and lovesick, but it was everything Magnus wanted. And it was something he knew he had wanted since Alec married him.

“What are you afraid of, then?” Catarina had asked him the day before, after Magnus had left Alec at the Institute and come to visit her and Madzie. 

Magnus sighed, leaning back slightly into Catarina’s sofa. She was curled towards him, dressed in a soft jumper and jeans on one of her rare days off, braids tied in a bun on the top of her head. She had recently started a New York home for orphaned or abandoned Downworlder children with the whole-hearted support of the New York Institute, and understandably it took up a great deal of her time. He hoped she knew how grateful he was that she was here now, giving him gentle advice that he was too stubborn to take from himself instead of taking some well-deserved relaxation.

“I don’t know.” Magnus said. “That he’ll say no? That it’s a bad idea because I’m immortal and Alec……isn’t?”

His voice quietened a little on the last word. For the most part, Magnus’ immortality had stopped being a sore subject between them, probably nipped in the bud when Magnus lost his magic and Alec saw how much the loss devastated him.

“I don’t ever want you to change.” Alec had told him one night, hushed and raw and intimate in the scarce space between them. “I don’t want you to ever think I resent anything about you, ever, anything that makes you _you_. I love every part of you, immortality included, and I’ve never wanted you to give up _any_ part of yourself for me. I only ever want you to be happy, Magnus. I hope you know that.”

“I do.” Magnus had whispered, heart in his throat, nose pressed against Alec’s. He thought about his four centuries of life, four centuries of loves fading in and out, every single one of them wanting some lesser version of him. Loves where his immortality, his magic, his eyes, his bleeding heart had been a burden to be overcome, or simply an immovable barrier. Then there’s Alec – who told him that there was nothing ugly about him, who saw every raw and jagged thing inside Magnus’ soul and married him anyway. “I do, Alexander.”

“You’re the love of my life, Magnus.” Alec said, his lips a hair’s width from Magnus’. “You are my entire world. No matter how long either of us live, that will never change.”

“And you, my darling, are the love of mine.” Magnus breathed. “The happiness I have with you is enough to last me a thousand years.” Magnus had closed the minuscule space between them to kiss him then, and the both of them stayed in each other’s embrace until the rawness dulled once again.

Magnus had made a promise to himself to never let his immortality and Alec’s lack thereof to ever stand in the way of their future, of their happiness. To treasure every single moment he had with Alexander, and hope he had decades worth of moments yet.

But old habits die hard, it seems.

“Magnus.” Catarina said patiently, arm coming around Magnus’ shoulders. “First of all, you know he won’t say no. He’s spoken about it before, right? And you only have to see how he is with Madzie to see that he was destined to be a father.” They both smiled at that, listened briefly to Madzie’s humming as she drew in the other room. “And as for the second part…”

She sighed then, squeezing Magnus’ shoulders. The both of them had loved and lost many times – the immortal’s curse – and it was felt keenly and silently between them in that moment.

“Preventing yourself from new things, new connections because you’re afraid of the day you’re going to get your heart broken is a trap that everyone falls into, not just us immortals.” Catarina said, soft and sincere. “Often, the highs in life are worth the lows. Don’t deny yourself this happiness, Magnus, by focusing the day it might be taken from you.”

Magnus’ felt his heart grow in his chest as he took in her words, thinking about the promise he had made to himself. He refused to deny himself a life, a family with Alec through fear of the day he’d have to breathe in a world where Alec was no longer by his side. He refused to deny either of them the happiness they deserved.

“You’re right.” Magnus smiled, his hand coming up to squeeze Catarina’s as it rested on his shoulder. 

“No change there, then.” Catarina said with a grin, kissing Magnus’ cheek. “Talk to him. He is your husband, after all.”

“What would I ever do without you, Cat?” Magnus said, pulling her into a tight hug.

“I dread to think.” She teased. He kissed her on both cheeks before he left, ensuring he gave Madzie a hug goodbye as well – promising that him and Alec would take her out soon.

He had come away determined to speak to Alec that night, excitement and nervousness a wild mix inside his chest, causing his heart to rattle and butterflies to tremble inside his stomach.

Magnus knew that the chances were low that Alec would be back home at a reasonable time – especially considering the grave nature of his visit to the Institute – but he hadn’t expected the night to close in so quickly and for him to fall asleep in their bed before any sign of Alec, waking only to Alec quietly crawling in next to him the wee hours. He was without the coherence of mind to do anything but settle in Alec’s arms and fall straight back to sleep again, and was equally prevented from even having a conversation with Alec in the morning as they both scrambled to get ready.

But he was going to talk to Alec tonight. He would make sure of it. Magnus would turn off both their phones, sit them down, cradle Alec’s hands in his and ask him if he would like to build a family with him. No more dithering, no more doubts.

He owed it to himself. He owed it to Alec. After two amazing years of marriage, two years of quietly and efficiently repairing any lingering cracks in their relationship, solving miscommunications and enjoying an all-consuming happiness that neither of them ever thought they would get to have, Magnus wasn’t about to stunt their record now, and not over this. 

As his first client of the day knocks on the door, Magnus sends a quick text to Alec fondly telling him to be home at 4, reminding him that he loves him, before going to work.

\--

All things considered, Alec’s meeting with the Consul goes surprisingly well.

He makes it to her office in Alicante two minutes late, but she doesn’t seem to notice as she invites him in and gestures politely for him to take a seat.

When the Clave finally decided to fulfil the role of Inquisitor once again after Imogen’s death, he was stunned to receive word that the Consul herself had nominated him for the job, seconded by a handful of Clave members and officially supported by the entirety of the New York. He remembered picking up the elegantly written letter while shifting through his paperwork in his office, sinking back into his chair in a daze as he took in its words.

“I was wrong about you.” Consul Penhallow had told him soon after, when he had asked to see her in cautious puzzlement. “I thought you were reckless, hot-headed and radical. But hearing about you and your team defeating the Queen of Hell and destroying Edom – hearing that you had brought Shadowhunters and Downworlders together in a common goal the way you did, and not only that, succeeded so spectacularly – it made me seriously examine my own views and practices.”

“Consul, I’m honoured. But it wasn’t just me, it was Clary who-“

“Yes,” the Consul interrupted. “Clary Fairchild is a hero, and please understand that everyone considers her as such, but the angels have made their judgement about her and unfortunately there is nothing else we can do for her.” She stepped forward in that moment, Alec seeing warmth in her eyes for the first time since he’s known her. “But it’s more than that. Since you’ve been Head of the New York Institute, you have made changes unlike anyone has ever seen in the last century. At first, I thought these changes could only be detrimental to our cause, to our integrity, but I can see now that I was wrong. Downworlders are not our enemy. You helped me see that.”

She smiled a little. “Well, you and my daughter.”

“Consul Penhallow…” Alec said, nothing short of shell-shocked.

“Please accept this nomination, Mr Lightwood-Bane.” She said. “I truly believe that you can help the Clave progress the way it needs to, the way it has needed to for a long time now.”

She held out a hand, and Alec shook it dazedly. “And congratulations on your marriage.”

Now, their relationship could almost be described as warm. She had supported his notion to endorse deputised Downworlders in Institutes, and had quietly offered advice when she somehow caught wind of his newest proposal. Aline’s doing, Alec suspected.

Less than two years ago, he wouldn’t have been able to picture her listening intently as he informed her about the murdered Downworlders in New York and the suspicion that it was the doing of Shadowhunters, her brows pinched in concern and her mouth downturned. He simply wouldn’t have been able to entertain the thought.

“This is incredibly concerning.” She says. “Isabelle has done the right thing by deciding to keep the investigation as classified as possible. The last thing we need is another Circle.”

The both of them inhale sharply at the thought.

“I will make sure this is monitored closely, Mr Lightwood-Bane.” She tells him. “Any resources the New York Institute needs to apprehend the perpetrators and get this movement shut down as quickly as possible – if this is a movement at all – they shall have it.”

“Thank you, Consul.” Alec says earnestly.

She visibly relaxes a little then, allowing herself the shadow of a smile.

“The Council meeting is the end of next week. Are you prepared?” She asks.

Alec takes a deep, steadying breath. “I believe so.” 

She nods curtly before leaning forward and placing her hand lightly on his shoulder. It’s a friendly, reassuring gesture, and Alec is still getting used to having this sort of kindness from her.

“I have every faith in you, Inquisitor.” She says, and smiles fully then. He returns it.

“I can’t thank you enough for your support in this, Consul.” Alec says. 

Her lips quirk again. “You can repay me by attending my daughter’s wedding, Inquisitor.” She says around a light chuckle. “Your legislation is going to allow that to be a possibility for everyone, after all. Not just Shadowhunters in high positions of power.”

Alec stands, accepting a cheerful handshake from her. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He grins. “To be honest with you, I’m surprised it took Aline and Helen this long to finally tie the knot.”

She laughs a little, her eyes softening at the mention of her daughter. “You and me both. I suppose the pair of them didn’t feel the….need, until now.” Her voice quietens a little with affection. “But that girl makes my daughter so happy. I look forward to be able to call her my daughter-in-law.”

Alec smiles privately, thinking of his own mother, the way she had gone from scorning Magnus like he was dirt underneath her shoe to being the first person she hugged and kissed whenever they went to visit her. Maryse Lightwood and Consul Penhallow – hell, even _himself_ – they are a testament to how people truly are capable of change, to how centuries-worth of ingrained prejudice really can be overcome. It fills him with hope, on those nights spent poring over his proposal, reading every line three times over to make sure it came off as precisely as possible, evenings where Magnus would tell him about Institutes he visited where they still looked at him with a sneer on their face and disdain in their eyes. It’s what drives him to keep going.

Well, that and the love and pride in his husband’s voice, in his kisses when Alec tells him excitedly of his plans. Making Magnus happy is pretty much his entire life’s purpose, to be frank.

“Please send your daughter my regards.” Alec says.

“I certainly will.” The Consul says warmly. “I’ll see you soon, Inquisitor.”

Alec dips his head in a polite goodbye and leaves, heading to his office the other side of the building.

He spends the rest of the day in a good mood, his heart light in his chest with optimism and fluttery anticipation at the conversation he plans to have with Magnus tonight, his stomach swooping embarrassingly when his phone pings gently with a text from Magnus at about 3pm.

_See you in an hour, darling. Love you ♥️_

Alec’s cheeks pinch in a smile, his joy and affection as steadfast and devouring in a way he knows it will always be. As it pretty much always does, his mind wonders confidently to thoughts of his husband – the darkening of his cheeks under Alec’s rapturous gaze, even after all this time; the stark smudge of toothpaste against the corner of his mouth, the elegant shape of his fingers as he cups a steaming cup of coffee, his wedding ring glinting in the light.

Alec’s fingers hover over the screen to reply when suddenly his phone lights up with an incoming call from Izzy, his ringtone jarring in the quiet, introspective space of the room.

“Hi Iz.” He answers. “You okay?”

“Alec.” Izzy says, and immediately Alec picks up the harsh edge of desperation in her voice. He stands up out of his chair without consciously telling his body to do so.

“Izzy? What is it?” He asks hurriedly.

“Alec, it’s…” She takes a shuddering breath over the line. “Catarina’s centre for Downworlder kids….Alec, they’ve all been massacred.”

Alec loses all of the breath in his body, his fingers go numb as they grip the phone.

“By the Angel.” He breathes. “Is Cat okay?”

“She’s fine.” Izzy tells him, her voice tight. “Her and Madzie are both fine, they weren’t there. But Catarina’s devastated. She’s here right now, Brielle is trying to comfort her but…” She takes another breath, deep and laced with barely-restrained tears. “But there’s something else, Alec, I-I don’t….”

“What is it?” Alec barks.

“You need to come and see.” Izzy says, “I don’t want to tell you this over the phone. Is Magnus there?”

“No, he’ll be in Tokyo at the moment.”

Alec briefly thinks about calling him, but he knows the meeting is concerning a recent bout of warlocks going missing, and the last thing he wants to do is interrupt that. 

“Okay, I’ll get Lorenzo to make you a portal. Your office alright?” Izzy says.

“Yeah.” He says, heart hammering in his chest. “I’ll see you in a minute.”

\--

The sight Alec is subjected to when he is taken to the home is something Alec knows he won’t be able to wrench from his thoughts for a very, very long time.

The adults were very obviously killed first. Most of them were warlocks, with a handful of werewolves and vampires, some of them lying sprawled on the floor with their arms outstretched as if they tried to be a human shield, murdered where they stood. Others lie in a pool of blood, often curled around a child. Scorch marks and stark, cleaving scratches from a blade litter the walls and floor.

The children….oh, the children. Alec couldn’t bring himself to look at their small faces as they lie on the floor and in their beds, their pale, tiny bodies smeared with bright red blood. Toys lay scattered nearby and Alec is nearly crushed by a sudden overwhelming surge of grief.

Alec, Izzy and Lorenzo pick their way through the site of the senseless slaughter, the weight of their combined silence suffocating in its misery.

“It was Nephilim.” Lorenzo says quietly.

“H-How do you know?” Alec asks, his own voice sounding too loud in the heavy air.

Lorenzo looks meaningfully at Izzy, and her eyes fill with tears. Alec’s anxiety soars.

“This is what I needed to show you.” She murmurs, gesturing for him to follow her into the next room. 

It looks like a nursery, elephants and giraffes painted on the pale yellow walls and cribs lining the room. Alec knows he won’t be able to bear the sight of what’s inside those cribs. A woman, a warlock – Alec vaguely recognises her, he realises with a pang – lies spread-eagle on the ground, eyes empty as they stare unseeing at the ceiling. Nausea prickles in Alec’s stomach.

As they get closer, Alec sees a seraph blade protruding from her chest. 

_Definitely Shadowhunters, then._ Alec doesn’t know if he’s relieved or aggrieved at the confirmation.

It’s clear she wasn’t killed by the dagger in her chest: her throat is slit and the blade isn’t deep enough to have been fatal. But that clearly wasn’t the point.

Because pinned to the woman’s chest by the dagger is a note. It’s written messily enough for the handwriting not to be identifiable, but its words are clear enough.

_‘Alec Lightwood,_

_Repeal your heretic proposal or more will die._

__

__

_You are a disgrace to the noble heritage of the Nephilim.’_

Alec feels his stomach drop to his knees and his heart rise to his throat in sheer, unfettered horror.

The fingers of his right hand come up to trace his wedding ring, an unconscious habit, something that would usually give him at least a trickle of comfort – but he feels nothing now. Only a thick sense of dread, and the sharp stab of guilt.

_This is my fault._ He thinks.

“This is my fault.” He whispers.

“Alec,” Izzy says in alarm, stepping over to grab his hand. “Alec, of course it isn’t.”

“Izzy, if it wasn’t for me, if it wasn’t for my-my _carelessness_, all these people, all these children would still be alive.” Alec exclaims, his voice rising in volume as he tries to fight back his tears.

“Alec, how could you say that?” Izzy says, her own voice raising in her distress. She grips him hard enough to hurt. “What you’re doing, what you’ve done, it’s changed people’s lives for the better! You’ve helped so many people, Alec, and you’re going to discard it so easily because of these….these _terrorists?!_”

He feels staggered, loosened by his shock and grief. He opens his mouth to respond when a small sound stops his train of thought stone cold.

The both of them fall immediately silent, Izzy’s hand loosening on his until she allows it to drop to her side. They both stand, eyes wide and alert, muscles coiled and ready to attack.

And then it comes again.

It’s a whimper, almost too quiet to be heard despite the weighted silence of the room, small and sad and pleading. The sound seems to come from one of the cribs in the corner.

Alec takes a measured step forward. Izzy stays deathly still, poised, her hand hovering over the seraph blade at her thigh. He hears the whimper again, and Alec starts to approach more confidently.

He reaches the crib, shrouded in shadows, and braces himself to look down.

And there, wriggling weakly against the white sheets, is a baby. A living baby.

Alec’s breath catches in his throat.

It’s purely instinct for Alec to reach in and gather the quietly grizzling baby into his arms. He barely registers Izzy gasping behind him as she catches sight of them; in fact, it’s like the whole world falls silent and insignificant around him as he looks down at the tiny infant cradled to his chest.

The first thought that flutters into his mind is that the baby is beautiful. Their tiny, pale face wrinkles and unwrinkles minutely before they relax in Alec’s protective hold. Their hands are curled loosely near their head, and Alec catches sight of amber scales adorning their neck and soft temples.

The second thought he has is that out of the countless people that have been killed today, adults and children, warlocks and werewolves and vampires; it is likely that this baby warlock is the only survivor. A miracle and a tragedy, at the same time. 

His third thought is that this will be the second time this child has been orphaned.

The baby makes a small noise, settles against Alec’s arms, and Alec feels the world shatter then build itself anew around him.

“Alec…” Izzy whispers, breathless, before footsteps approach. He turns in time to see Lorenzo step into the doorway, expression grave. 

Lorenzo’s mouth pops open as he takes in the sight of Alec standing there, probably pale as a sheet, cradling the bundle of a baby against him. There is a beat of silence where they simply look at each other, the weight of everything unspoken making Alec’s eyes heavy.

“I think we should get the little one out of here.” Lorenzo finally says, softly, soothingly. “Don’t you?”

\--

Magnus knows something must be wrong as soon as it hits 4:30pm and Alec hasn’t come home, nor has he sent Magnus an adorable and apologetic text letting him know he’s going to be late. 

But it’s more than that. His magic feels a little unsettled, fizzing in his veins and curling blue around his fingers without Magnus’ conscious will. In fact, Magnus’ magic has been behaving a little odd recently, and specifically around Alec. There have been times where he would feel his magic surge in his chest unexpectedly, only for him to see Alec walk through the door moments later. The rare day where his magic became almost depleted would be restored ten times quicker when he crawled into Alec’s arms. Sometimes, when Alec walked in after a long day, his magic would tingle and whisper within him, and somehow he’d know that Alec had been made despondent and gloomy by some ignorant Clave member without having to observe his hunched shoulders and downturned mouth.

Magnus didn’t know what it meant, and he wasn’t sure that he was ready to know just yet, but he knew Alec felt it too – kisses pressed against his fingertips as they radiated blue, the way he would pull Magnus to him by the waist, holding him to his body without Magnus even breathing a word that his magic had been weakened during the day.

But it meant that now, it wasn’t just an empty phone screen that told Magnus something wasn’t right. Somehow, with the restless tremble of his magic, Magnus _knew._

He tries not to be frantic and borderline pitiful, but he calls Alec twice anyway, both times the ringtone eventually clicking to voicemail.

Magnus takes a deep breath, steels himself to call again before his screen suddenly lights up with Isabelle’s name instead. He feels his stomach drop in a swift lick of panic.

“Isabelle?” Magnus snaps in lieu of a greeting. “What is it? Is Alec alright?”

“Whoa, Magnus, slow down.” Isabelle says, voice strained but firm. “Alec is fine. He’s absolutely fine, I promise. We’ve just had…an incident. Can you come to the Institute?”

Magnus is already pulling on his jacket. “What’s happened?”

Isabelle sighs, a trembling edge to it. “The home for Downworlder kids that Catarina founded…they’ve, they’ve all been murdered.”

Magnus freezes in his tracks. “W-What?” He almost stumbles against the wall. “Oh my God. Cat, is she o-“

“Cat’s fine too.” Isabelle assures him. “She’s…destroyed, obviously, but she’s safe. She’s gone home now to sleep, Brielle’s gone with her to look after Madzie.”

“And Alec? Where is he?”

“He’s here.” Isabelle says. “He’s…..look, can you come? He really needs you right now.” 

And if there’s ever a sentence to snap Magnus into action, it’s that one.

“I’ll be there in 30 seconds.”

When he arrives Isabelle points him in the direction of her office. He takes in the dark circles under her eyes, her shoulders hunched in sadness. He pulls her into a quick, tight hug, which she accepts with a shuddering inhale, before he heads down the corridor to his husband.

When he gently pushes open the familiar wooden door, it’s to a sight he’s barely dared to dream about.

Alec sits, his well-beloved profile framed by the orange glow of the fire, his face downturned towards the small bundle of blankets in his arms. Magnus is puzzled for half a second before Alec shifts slightly and he catches sight of a small, round face relaxed in a sleep; a tiny nose.

His breath catches.

Alec turns at the sound, and their gazes lock. Neither of them say a word, but they don’t need to – the look that passes between them enough to quake the earth in its intensity. Alec stares at him, Magnus realising Alec’s cheeks are streaked with tears as he cradles the baby gently to his chest, a thousand and one thoughts and questions being exchanged between in them in a single moment of silence, a single moment of unspoken love and understanding. It’s deafening; it’s staggering. It’s beautiful.

“Magnus.” Alec says, no louder than a breath, and it’s like it cracks open a dam inside Magnus. 

He walks over to his husband as if pulled by a magnet, his eyes never leaving Alec’s as he sinks as quietly as he can into the seat next to him.

“Alexander.” Magnus whispers, and Alec’s eyes abruptly fill with tears. “Oh, Alexander.”

Magnus reaches up to cup Alec’s jaw tenderly, pressing soft, trembling kisses to his cheek, his temple, the side of his nose and the corner of his mouth as Alec weeps silently against him, his shoulders shivering as he tries to hold in his cries. Magnus presses his forehead to Alec’s temple and brushes his thumb back and forth across Alec’s cheekbone in an attempt to comfort him.

“Oh, my love, it’s alright. I’m here. I’m here. You’re alright.”

Alec shudders, his nose against Magnus’ cheek, seeking his warmth, and Magnus cups his arm as it holds the baby without thinking. Alec moves at that, and the both of them look down at the baby in that moment, watching them snuffle in their sleep. Magnus feels something new and wonderful terrifying construct itself around the three of them.

“It’s a girl.” Alec murmurs, close enough that Magnus feels the warmth of his breath against his cheek. “A little girl. A warlock.”

He takes a careful, measured breath.

“She was the only survivor.”

Magnus nods minutely, one hand pressing slightly firmer below Alec’s arm in a gentle gesture of assurance, the other coming up to settle itself in Alec’s hair.

“She’s beautiful.” Magnus says.

He feels Alec smile.

“She is.” Alec agrees quietly.

Magnus squeezes the nape of Alec’s neck and when Alec turns towards him he captures his lovely mouth in a kiss, closed-lipped and loving. It’s a kiss of affirmation, of solace, a way of saying ‘I’ve missed you, I’ve been worried about you. I love you, and I promise we’ll make everything right’ in perhaps the best way they know how. When Magnus pulls away, Alec’s eyes are still closed, and Magnus brushes his nose against his.

“Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try and update this every week, if not every fortnight.
> 
> Please leave a comment if you can, it keeps me going and it keeps me writing!
> 
> Come chat to me on [tumblr](http://arthurdent.co.vu).


End file.
